Love's Captive Heart (Author's Cut Edition)

by Phoebe Conn

  "Gather your belongings quickly, and we will go. I want to reach the sea before dawn, for the promises you gave Robert were transparent ones, and I don't want him to remember them in the morning and reconsider his decision to let us depart."

  Having no wish to remain even one moment longer under the despicable duke's roof, Celiese took the garments she had brought with her from the wardrobe and folded them into a neat bundle without argument. That she had managed to fool the villain with such vague statements had surprised her too, but she had given Mylan her word she would try to please him and was grateful she had.

  "Will he change his mind after he has given us his word?"

  "Not if you behave as he believes you promised to do." Wasting no more time, Mylan changed his clothes, and carried his own possessions as well as hers as they slipped out of the mansion and made their way down to the docks. He had come and gone so frequently in the last week that he was recognized and not challenged by the guards they met, but he had taken the precaution of wearing his sword at his side, just in case such an unlikely event occurred. When they were safely on board the Surf Falcon he gave the order to weigh anchor, and catching the evening breeze they followed the winding moonlit path of the river Seine all the way to the sea.

  * * *

  Too excited to rest, Celiese stood at the rail for the entire journey, waiting anxiously for a glimpse of the shore near her home. When she sighted the cliff she remembered, she begged Mylan to take her ashore, even though the dawn had not yet begun to lighten the eastern sky. Wanting to rest as much as he wanted to please her, Mylan readily agreed, taking the ship in close to the beach so they did not get thoroughly drenched making their way to the dry sand. Taking their blanket with him, he held her hand as they skirted the small village and made their way to the ruins of her once magnificent home.

  Deliriously happy, Celiese skipped up the gentle hill. "Everything will be as it was before, Mylan; I know it will take time, but we can make it happen, I know we can!"

  He did not waste his breath insisting she use his Christian name, but her childlike enthusiasm saddened him greatly. She seemed to see nothing in the shadows that surrounded them but the happiness of her past, and he had failed in his efforts to make her focus on a future she would want to share with him. What he needed and wanted mattered so little to her she could not even remember to use the name he had taken when he had accepted her God as his own.

  He had done so much, and all willingly, not only in hopes he would be able to save her life but to win her respect and trust, as well. Yet as he watched the joy sparkle in her eyes he knew the walls of the half-destroyed mansion meant more to her than he ever would. "I would be content if instead of constantly swearing that you are my wife, you would be one!" he shouted suddenly, the sound of his deep voice echoing against the few stonewalls that remained standing.

  Startled by his outburst, Celiese approached him warily. "What is wrong? I did as you asked; I did not anger that swine who dares to call himself a duke. He did not forbid me to rebuild my house, but said we may live here as the d'Loganvilles always have. Why are you so angry with me?"

  "It was my first name I changed, Celiese, not my last, and this ruin is now the home of the Vandahls. You may lie to everyone around you, but you're a fool to lie to yourself, and if I ever find you lying to me again I will finally give you the beating you have always deserved."

  Appalled by his threats, she responded wearily, "It always comes back to the day we met. You saw me for what I truly am for so few hours, and I've never had that same sweet, acceptance from you ever again. That was better than any paradise could ever be, but I had your love for so short a time I can scarcely remember its beauty now."

  "How can you speak to me of love when I have never had yours?" he responded bitterly. "You betrayed me on our wedding night, risked your life gladly to escape what you described as the agony of being my slave, accepted the hospitality of my family while you used my brother's affection simply to gain passage to France, and then, when I brought you here to save you from certain death at the hands of the Torgvalds, you let your passion for revenge lead you to insult a man who could have ended both our lives with the snap of his fingers. You are the most selfish woman ever born, and you have not once stopped to think of me!"

  Her senses reeling under his barrage of vicious insults, Celiese nevertheless sprang to her own defense. "Why is it you constantly twist each of my actions as though it were the worst possible choice? How can you believe I spend all my time seeking new ways to hurt you? You mean the world to me. I speak the truth with you, but you despise me all the same."

  Mylan took two steps away, then turned back to face her, "I will help you as best I can to rebuild your home, and I will work often enough for Robert to satisfy his requirements so that you may keep your land. But unless you give me your promise now that you will lead the most circumspect of lives so he will never have any cause to suspect you are working to undermine his authority, I have no intention of being your husband."

  Confused by his demand, Celiese stared up at him. "What do you mean?"

  "You know exactly what I mean. If you plan to spend your time plotting schemes to drive the Danes from France after we have the king's invitation to remain and establish this province for our own, you will do it alone. I gave my word to Robert that I would be loyal to him so you could keep your precious land, to say nothing of your life, but if you're going to continue to lie to me as well as to him, then you will live in whatever splendid dwelling we can erect by yourself, as I will never set foot inside it."

  Her happiness of only moments before vanished in the face of his rage, but she saw no way she could promise to mend her ways when she had not committed any of the crimes he had imagined. "I see; but when I say I have never lied to you, you consider that a lie in itself, don't you?"

  "Which you know it is!" he shouted fiercely. "What I want is a wife who will consider my feelings for a change. A woman I can trust not to leave me again and again without the slightest provocation."

  "I have never left you," she replied indignantly. "You threw me off your farm yourself when I begged to stay, and it was Hrolf, or Robert if you will, from whom I was running yesterday, not you." She was miserable, desperately sorry he had not accepted the reason she had given him the day before as the truth.

  "Why are you bothering to argue with me? The past is a dead issue, I want only your promise that you'll bring no more pain to either of us with any more thoughtless actions in the future. Will you give it or not?" He had lost his patience entirely with her now and voiced his demand with a hostile sneer.

  "How can I give you my word on any subject when you don't trust me? And there's no point in my promising that my behavior will be above reproach when you accept none of my actions as good." Tears stung her eyes, for she could think of no way to please him when no matter what she attempted she failed.

  The sun's rays had just broken over the horizon behind her, illuminating her shimmering curls with the bright glow of a halo, but Mylan saw only a young woman so defiant she would never be tamed. Pushed beyond all reasonable limits by her refusal to accept terms he thought most generous, he drew her into his arms; crushing her in an embrace from which she could not hope to escape. Not bothering to spread out their blanket, he lowered her to the dew-covered grass; for once letting the passion she aroused in him rage without restraint through the tensed muscles of his powerful body.

  His blood aflame with an all-consuming desire, he sought only to break the power of her enchantment, to take all she could give in one last act of love that would for all time satisfy his compelling need to possess her.

  Shocked by the speed with which he had moved, Celiese wound her fingers in Mylan's golden curls, wanting only to capture his mouth in a kiss whose affection would inspire the tenderness he had always shown her. Barely aware of her gesture, Mylan was lost in a glorious quest, seeking only to end the agony of the insatiable desire her slightest touch created within
his heart.

  The heat of his passion ignited her own, and she drew him close, her need expressed in a far more subtle manner, but her hunger for love no less deep. She found his affection intoxicating, no matter how he chose to give it, the pleasure undiminished by the wildness of his mood, and she accepted his strength with the same eager surrender she had always given to invite his tenderness. She wanted to bring a smile to his lips and laughter to his amber eyes, to please him in the only way she knew she ever had.

  When he had first lowered her to the grass, he had expected her to fight him, to scream and call him vile names, but instead she had astonished him by enfolding him in a loving embrace, her sweetness encouraging the passion he could not hope to control. His conscious mind refused to consider her purpose; he knew only that he would never have enough of her smooth, graceful body and honey-sweet kiss, for the more he wished to give the more eagerly she responded, until the brightness of the new day went unnoticed through the haze of their passion's flames. If it was magical spells she cast, he could not fight their power, and once again he became her willing slave.

  Chapter 25

  Celiese awakened slowly, surrounded by the pleasant fragrance of warm earth and tangled grass. She was wrapped snugly in the blanket, the soft folds gently caressing her bare skin still held a haunting trace of Mylan's presence, an exotic blend with the freshness of the sea breeze mixed with his purely masculine scent. She inhaled deeply, bringing back the memory of his passionate embrace with a slow, satisfied smile.

  He was the most surprising of lovers, slow and sweet upon one occasion, then driven by the fires of passion the next, and yet he was always tender, his loving so splendid she would never tire of his affection. He was as fascinating an individual to her now as he had been from the moment she had first entered the darkened room where he had stood waiting to meet her, his voice filled with an angry anguish.

  Missing his warm presence by her side, she rose up on one elbow to look for him, but was disappointed to find she was alone upon the hill. The brocade gown she had worn for their wedding lay folded nearby, her slippers tucked neatly beneath the long skirt. She could not even remember removing the lavishly embroidered garment, and yet there it was as clear evidence that she had. That was precisely the effect Mylan always had upon her.

  When he wanted her she had no wish to refuse his attentions, and the constraints clothing presented to their ardor were always swiftly cast aside. Their bodies were so attuned to each other that their flesh longed to merge from the moment their fingertips brushed lightly together, and she could not wait to see him again, certain his mood would be as fine as hers for a change.

  The day looked to be a glorious one. The sun was already high overhead, but as she sat up a sudden wave of nausea made her dizzy and she lay back down, hoping it would soon subside. But it worsened, until she finally gave in to it. Feeling faint, she rested for a long while before she felt physically able to stand. Wrapping herself in the blanket, she decided upon a refreshing bath in the stream. She hoped such an indulgence would restore her health as well as the euphoric mood with which she had awakened. She would not tell Mylan she had been ill again, as it would only worry him needlessly. Surely it was no more than a reaction to lack of sleep and the excitement of finally escaping Robert's rude clutches.

  They had settled nothing with their bitter argument before dawn, but perhaps she should tell her husband she had not felt well if it would help her avoid another such ghastly scene. She did not wish to risk his anger on the chance he might consider a secret as being the same as a lie. Uneasy with the decision, she regarded her first impulse as the best, for it was a wife's duty to save her husband from needless worry. That was all she hoped to do.

  Reaching the place where the brook widened into a pool, she looked about to be certain she would be unobserved, then dropped the blanket to her feet. It was then she noticed the silver charm she had worn so proudly was gone. Had the delicate chain broken and slipped to the grass as they had made love, or had Mylan taken it back while she slept too soundly to refuse his request?

  She splashed the cold water upon her body with vigorous, strokes, wanting only to finish her bath and find him to demand he return what was rightfully hers. But as she returned to the spot where they had slept she wanted to make certain the necklace was not lying hidden in the tall grass. Getting down on her hands and knees she searched diligently, traversing a larger section than what they had occupied, but she saw little other than an assortment of industrious ants and a few tiny beetles.

  "Is this what I am supposed to do, Mylan, to search for the answer to each and every problem that confronts us with the thoroughness I've given to finding my necklace?" she muttered softly to herself. She dressed in the rose-colored gown, hoping he had taken Thor's tiny hammer for safekeeping. She would feel dreadful if it were lost.

  Satisfied her appearance was presentable, after she had spent the most reckless of nights, she suppressed her laughter at that tantalizing memory, slipped on her shoes, and started down the hill. She chose the path upon which they had come, bypassing the village as she scanned the ground for the flash of sunlight upon silver, but she reached the edge of the cliff without finding her necklace. She raised her hand to shade her eyes as she looked out upon the sea's bright sparkle, but she could do no more than stare, unable to catch her breath, for where she had expected to see the Surf Falcon lying at anchor there was only an endless expanse of gray-green water.

  The sleek ship was gone, but was Mylan gone as well? Or had he only sent his men out to fish, or to sail up the coast in search of timber to rebuild their house? More than a dozen possibilities came to mind as she ran down the path to the beach. As far as she knew, his crew had not expressed any desire to remain in France. Perhaps he had sent them home to return the Surf Falcon to Hagen and Andrick. Hagen had planned to come to France in the spring, but there was little time left to sail now before winter's chill gripped the land and turbulent seas made voyages too dangerous to consider. Why had he not awakened her to tell her what he had planned so she would not be so dreadfully frightened when she found him gone?

  She paced up and down the damp sand with an anxious step, hoping at any moment the red and white sail of the Falcon would come into view. Her apprehension grew, and large tears welled up in her eyes as she wondered if perhaps she had been abandoned and her hopes of seeing her husband again soon would prove futile.

  She remained on the beach, waiting and hoping Mylan would appear at any moment to laugh at her foolishness, but her heart was filled with dread. When she heard André calling her name she wheeled about suddenly, desperate for some news of her husband's whereabouts. She ran to meet the elderly man as he came down the path, but his pleasant smile told her nothing.

  "Have you seen my husband today? We arrived very early this morning and slept near our house, but when I awakened he was gone." Her long lashes were damp with tears, her anxiety readily conveyed to the friendly Frenchman.

  "Alas, Lady d'Loganville, as I do not speak his tongue and he does not speak mine we have little means to communicate," he responded, apologizing for his inability to be more helpful.

  "But did you see him?" Celiese grabbed André's hands, pulling him near so she might question him fully.

  "Yes, he came to my home and left another large bag of silver."

  Surprised by that remark, Celiese interrupted quickly, "What do you mean another bag of silver, has he given you some before?"

  "When you left here I found the coins at my door and knew they could only have come from the two of you. Did he not tell you how generous he'd been with me? I thought the money was meant for all of us, to help the village as a gift from you."

  "He neglected to mention it." She did not know what to think now. That Mylan had wanted to help the peasants pleased her enormously, but why had he not told her of his generosity? Returning to their present problem, she continued, "You said he left more silver with you today?"

  André chuc
kled to himself as he replied, "Yes, but this is for your house. He took a stick and drew an outline in the dirt so I would understand I am to use this money to help you rebuild your house."

  Celiese slumped down in the sand, simply sank to her knees as she realized what Mylan had meant André to do. "I have no need of a house without a husband, André, and clearly the man has left me." She tried frantically to remember what he had told her before dawn. He would work for Robert so she could keep her land, he would rebuild her house but not live in it unless she promised, promised what?

  She brought her hands to her mouth to muffle her sobs. He had been so angry, bitterly enumerating each wrong he imagined she had done him, when she was innocent of every one of his accusations. She wept on and on, heartbroken that he had left her when she had deserved none of his hatred. André squatted down beside her, gently stroking her silken curls to soothe her misery, but he could do no more than provide a sympathetic ear as Celiese continued to cry, her heartbreak evident in the tremors shaking her slender body with unbearable sorrow.

  When finally exhausted by a torrent of tears, she looked up at André, embarrassed to have let him witness such a shocking lack of self-control. She wiped the last of her tears from her eyes with trembling fingertips, and then rose gracefully to her feet. "Please forgive me, I did not mean to burden you with my unhappiness."

  "But, dear lady, I want to be of service in whatever way I am able." André struggled to stand, pausing to brush the sand from his trousers. "Your husband left something at my home, clothing, I believe it is."

  "How considerate of him." Drained of all emotion, she did not care what he might have left behind when he had not chosen to stay himself. She preceded André along the path up the face of the cliff, and then turned to wait for him. "I'll come get those things now, although I do not know where I shall take them."